


Earth Thirty-Four

by brinshannara



Series: 52 Times Alex and Maggie Met [6]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Earth, F/F, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinshannara/pseuds/brinshannara
Summary: In a world where homosexuality is illegal, Alexandra learns more about herself and meets a woman named Maggie.





	Earth Thirty-Four

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos remind me that, though I write primarily for myself, others do appreciate it when I put my stuff out there. Thanks for reading. :)
> 
> A special note here: this story deals with an extreme version of a homophobic community. There's no violence, but there's also no tolerance. More on this in the end notes, but I want readers to know that this could be difficult to read.

Alexandra sat in the car outside of the address she’d been given, not at all sure she wanted to enter. The address had been given to her by a friend’s friend’s cousin, who now lived out of the city. She’d been warned to memorize the address and not mention the location to anyone. She had also been instructed to tell her husband that she’d joined a new knitting group. Of course, she should also bring her knitting with her, to give weight to the lie. She’d been told things got underway promptly at eight and so she should aim to arrive between half-past seven and eight.

It was a mistake; she knew it was a mistake. Lying to Duncan as she had, it was just wrong. She should never have confided in Chelsea about her… sensibilities. She should have just kept quiet and accepted that her place was with Duncan and Elizabeth and Victoria and that was her life. A regular life. A _normal_ life.

Instead, she’d had too much wine at Chelsea’s dinner party with the ladies, while the men discussed serious business things, and had said too much to Chelsea about what she’d been thinking, about the whispers she’d heard about some people and about how, perhaps, she’d entertained such thoughts. However, she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since then. Day after day, night after night, she’d _think_ about it.

At least Chelsea hadn’t turned her in. She’d, very kindly, made some very discreet inquiries and her friend’s cousin, who had previously lived in the city, gave her the address for a reputable knitting circle, as it was called.

“Alexandra,” Chelsea had chided her, “do you realize what I had to go through to assure my friend’s cousin, Frances, that you wouldn’t report the circle’s existence? My goodness, it was quite dreadful, answering all of these questions.” She’d clicked her tongue. “Could you imagine if you were to report them and somehow I’d be implicated because I’d aided you? Heaven help us if it got back to Phillip!” she’d exclaimed. “Please, dear, whether or not you use the information, keep the source confidential, won’t you?”

Given her friend’s efforts, Alexandra had taken the information and, that Tuesday morning, she’d mentioned to Duncan that some of the ladies had invited her to a knitting group and she’d like to see what it was like that evening. He’d harrumphed, of course, being Duncan, but she’d assured him the girls would be fed, bathed and put to bed before she’d leave. He’d asked her when she’d be back and she promised to return before midnight.

“I can’t say no to you, darling, you know that,” he’d said, kissing her cheek and patting her rear. “Besides, if it improves your knitting, we all win!” he’d joked.

So that was why, at 7:42 in the evening on Tuesday, Alexandra sat parked across the street from a large home she’d never been to before. And she was panicking. She had never in her life considered herself to be one of _them_. A _Liker_. She shuddered at the weight of the word, even in her mind. She took a deep breath. It was silly. What was she even doing here? She was normal. Everyone had these ideas, these thoughts, didn’t they? It was just _acting_ on them that would be horribly wrong, both immoral and illegal.

She strapped her seatbelt back on and was about to turn the key when she saw another car pull up in front of the house. A woman got out of the passenger seat and waved at the man who was driving before slamming the door and walking up the steps to the front porch. The man watched and waited for the woman to turn and wave again before he left. The woman looked normal, Alexandra considered. She’d been wearing a nice skirt, a conservative shirt, a sweater around her shoulders and she was carrying her knitting basket. She swallowed. It wasn’t at all unlike what Alexandra herself was wearing. She took a deep breath, pulled the keys from the ignition, undid her seatbelt again and stepped out of the car. She locked the door and placed the keys safely in her own knitting basket, which doubled as her purse.

Alexandra walked across the street at a reasonable pace. She wasn’t in any hurry. Before she knew it, she had climbed the steps and arrived at the front door. She rang the bell before she could lose her nerve.

The door opened to reveal an ordinary-looking woman, dressed sensibly, respectably, with her blonde hair done up, makeup on.

“You must be Alexandra, is that right?”

She nodded.

“I’m Beatrice,” she said, smiling. “Won’t you please come in?”

“Thank you,” Alexandra said, stepping inside. The vestibule and hallway were normal. She wondered if this really _was_ a knitting group.

“I believe you’ll want to head down the hallway to your left,” Beatrice said, kindly.

“Uh, yes, thank you,” she said, and walked down the hall towards the rear of the house. As she approached the large lounge, she noticed a stairway going up to the second level and another one going down to the cellar. She swallowed and continued on to the lounge where a group of ladies were sitting, chatting amiably, while two older women were knitting at a table off to the side.

“Hello,” a woman said, standing up to greet her. She was lovely; tall, slender, with reddish curls that fell to her shoulders, perhaps a bit older than Alexandra was. She looked around. All the women were wearing clothing of a similar style; wearing skirts, shirts and often sweaters. They were all done up properly. Normally.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m, uh,” she cleared her throat. “I’m Alexandra.”

“I’m Victoria,” she said, “but you can call me Vicki.”

Alexandra blinked. It was incredibly rare for a woman to use a shortened version of a name, or any kind of nickname at all. “Lovely to meet you,” she said. “And Victoria, how lovely. That’s the name of one of my daughters.”

“What would you like us to call you?” Vicki asked, with a smile.

“Oh, Alexandra is fine,” she said, smiling.

“Very well,” she said, leading her further into the room. “Please, have a seat. We’re not quite ready to begin yet, but relax, have a glass of wine, some canapés, some crudités and such.”

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“Ladies, this is Alexandra,” Vicki said. “She’s new here, so please be kind.”

“Welcome!”

“Hello!”

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

She smiled and gave a small wave before sitting down primly on a chair that had clearly been pulled from the main dining room for the occasion.

“Hi,” said the woman closest to her, a small blonde woman. “I’m Patty. Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, I can get wine myself, that’s fine,” Alexandra responded, “please don’t put yourself out.”

“It’s no bother,” she smiled. “Red or white?”

“Red, please.”

“Back in a jiffy,” she said kindly, and she headed off towards the refreshment table.

“I’m Jenny,” a dark-haired woman about her age on her other side said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Goodness,” Alexandra said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why all the shortened names?”

Jenny smiled. “Not all of us use nicknames, but personally, I find it nice to have a place where I can be Jenny, as opposed to Jennifer when I’m at home.”

“Oh?” That was odd.

She shrugged. “I feel more comfortable with Jenny, but of course, my husband would never permit me to go by that.”

“Ah,” she said, “I see.” She, too, had been discouraged from using derivatives of her name, particularly Alex. Her mother’s voice haunted her. “It’s too masculine!” she’d chided her, once she’d turned ten. She’d been Alex most of her life to that point and it had taken years for her to embrace Alexandra. The idea of once again being able to _be_ Alex, even just occasionally, was tempting, exhilarating… and terrifying. She pushed down the surge of temptation. She was Alexandra, now. She simply wouldn’t succumb to the notion of being Alex again. It would be that easy.

Patty returned with her glass of wine.

“Here you go, dear,” she said, handing it to her.

“Thank you so much,” Alexandra said, taking a sip. She gazed around the room, recognizing precisely no one. She turned back to Patty. “So what does your husband do?” she asked, trying to make idle conversation.

“Oh dear me, no,” Patty said, shaking her head. “We don’t discuss the men here.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, “I, uh, I was just trying to make conversation.”

“It’s all right,” Patty said. “Poor thing, did your sponsor not explain the rules to you?”

Vicki turned at that. “Now, Patty, you know full-well I go over the rules at eight o’clock sharp,” she rebuked the other woman, gently.

“But surely her sponsor—”

“Alexandra comes to us by way of Frankie.”

Patty blinked. “Frankie?” She turned to Alexandra. “You know Frankie?”

Wide-eyed, Alexandra shrugged. “Uh, Frances, right?”

Patty nodded.

“Not myself, but she’s the cousin of a friend’s friend.”

Vicki gestured to Alexandra. “You see? She’s an extended referral.” She turned to Alexandra. “Don’t you worry, dear, we’ll get started shortly.”

Alexandra just focused on her wine for the next few minutes, questioning her presence there, repeatedly. As the minutes passed by to eight, more women filtered in. By eight, there had to be at least twenty ladies in the large lounge area, ranging in age from possibly younger than Alexandra’s own twenty-eight years to perhaps somewhere in their mid-fifties. Most were chatting amiably with one another. All of them seemed perfectly respectable. Once again, she wondered if she was in the right place.

The grandfather clock in the front hall began its chiming of the eight o’clock hour and Vicki clapped her hands to get their attention.

“Ladies! Welcome to West Coast Knitting Circle number thirty-four,” she said, smiling, as everyone applauded politely. “We have some new faces tonight, so I’ll go through the rules a little more thoroughly than I normally do.” She smiled especially at Alexandra.

“The basic rules apply — we don’t discuss our husbands here. We don’t really discuss our children, either. There is to be no sharing of last names and we would encourage you to use a nickname rather than the name you use in your daily life. The goal is to keep the you that exists here separate from the you that exists outside of this house,” she said. “To that end, if you drive your car here, park some blocks away, to ensure that no one makes any associations between your daily life and your activities here. Further, any personally identifiable documents should not be brought into the house.”

Alexandra made note of both statements. If she returned, she’d leave her wallet in the glove compartment of the car which she would park a few minutes away, rather than directly across the street.

“As usual, there is to be no discussion of anything that occurs here. Everyone has been referred to us, either by present or past members. This is a safe place,” she emphasized, “and you are under absolutely no obligation to do anything, or even stay here, if you don’t want to. You’re free to leave at any time. The evening should wrap up around half-past ten and by eleven, we’d ask that you all be on your way.”

She walked over to a table area where four older women sat together. “These are our delightful knitters — Jackie, Barb, Katie and Andy. If you need to show progress on your current pattern, please come see the table with your supplies and we’ll make sure your knitting advances by a couple of dozen rows at least.”

“Now then, as per usual, this room is to chat amongst yourselves. Upstairs, there are several rooms available for your use. Should you use a room, please ensure to close the door. Consequently, we ask that you please do not open a closed door. Downstairs is a more, shall we say, _liberal_ atmosphere? Again, we remind you that this is a safe place. Please ask before approaching anyone, particularly downstairs. Finally, please, no displays of affection here in the lounge beyond what might be acceptable in public.”

“Finally, in the event of an _emergency_ ,” she said, “an alarm will sound five quick blasts. This is your warning to collect your things and leave as quickly as possible. Emergency exits are located in each of the upstairs rooms, in the cellar, and there’s an exit to the garden back here,” she said, pointing at the back doors. “An emergency will signal the immediate disbanding of this circle and you should not return here for any reason if an emergency occurs.”

She clapped her hands together once. “Questions?”

Alexandra had a multitude of questions, particularly as to what was meant by the word _emergency_ , but remained silent.

“All right, ladies, thanks for your attention. Have a good time.”

That was when Alexandra saw the first bit of unnatural behaviour. At least three pairs of women grabbed each other’s hands and headed upstairs, all smiles and giggles. Eyes wide, Alexandra drained the rest of her wine.

“First time, right?” Jenny asked.

Alexandra nodded.

“Relax. I know, it’s difficult to see such things you‘ve been told your whole life are wrong, unnatural, evil…”

Alexandra nodded again.

“I promise you,” she said, gently, “there’s nothing wrong with any of us here. Or with you.” She looked up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

“Uh, sure, yes, of course,” she said, watching Jenny get up and hug another woman. She swallowed. Maybe she was in the wrong place. She wasn’t comfortable with any of what was going on.

Vicki came to sit by her. “Alexandra,” she said, “is everything all right?”

She blew out a breath. “I, uh, I’m just… I’m not really sure that I, uh…” She cleared her throat. “Belong here.”

Vicki smiled kindly. “It’s all right, dear,” she said, patting her lightly on the arm. “Just chat. Get to know some of the ladies. And, perhaps you’ll get to know a bit more about yourself.”

“Uh, all right,” she said, clearing her throat. “Thank you.”

“Find me if you have questions all right?”

“Thanks,” she said, gratefully.

Vicki patted her back lightly and stood up to rejoin a group of ladies near the middle of the room, leaving Alexandra to gaze around the room. She definitely needed more wine. She stood up and left her knitting basket on her seat and headed to the refreshment table.

“Hey,” a blonde-haired woman said to her, with a smile. “Alexandra, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” She nervously poured herself a glass of red.

“I’m Chris,” she offered.

“Pleased to meet you,” Alexandra said, automatically, as she finished pouring her wine.

“Would you like to chat for a few minutes?” Chris asked.

Alexandra looked her over. Again, she looked completely normal. Proper. Respectable. Decent. Alexandra nodded. “Sure,” she said.

“Shall we go upstairs or…?” Chris asked.

She was certain her face let the other woman know exactly how she felt at the possibility of going upstairs.

Chris laughed. “We can stay here in the lounge,” she said, gently. “It’s okay.”

Alexandra took a mouthful of wine and let Chris lead her to a couple of chairs tucked into a corner, away from the center of the room.

“First time at a knitting circle, is it?”

“I’m that obvious, am I?” Alexandra asked.

“Well, I can’t say anyone generally has that level of panic on their face when they’re asked to go upstairs with someone else, so…” Chris chuckled. “It’s okay,” she repeated. “I remember my first time.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “It was only about a year ago,” she said, “when I was just as scared as you. Horrified to think that I might be one of _those_ people. The kind who are only whispered about?”

Alexandra took another sip of her wine and nodded.

“What I’ve learned here is that there’s nothing wrong with me,” she said, smiling. “There’s something wrong with society for punishing people for their feelings.”

She swallowed.

“So, tell me, what brings you here?”

“I, uh, had a bit too much wine one night,” she said, laughing nervously as she held up her glass as evidence. “My h—” She stopped, remembering the rules. “ _We_ were at a dinner party and I’d had too much wine and I was in the kitchen with my friend, the hostess, tidying up, as you do.”

Chris nodded.

“And she’s always been so worldly, so knowledgeable!” she exclaimed. “So I asked her if she’d ever had a, uh…” She took a breath. “A thought that might not be…” She exhaled. “Normal.”

“Ah.”

“Of course, she said no. And warned me not to talk about such things. But we discussed it more the following week, at a playdate at her home, when I hadn’t had any wine, and then she, very kindly, made some calls and told me this might be a place I should come to in order to, well, learn more.” Alexandra immediately took another mouthful of wine.

“So you’ve had some of those thoughts?” Chris asked, gently.

Alexandra nodded, looking down, feeling the shame of admitting it, even in the presence of someone who was clearly one of _them_.

“Is there a particular woman who’s made you think these thoughts?”

She shook her head.

“How old were you when you first realized you might not want a husband?”

She looked up at that and gaped, open-mouthed, at Chris.

She smiled. “Yeah. I know that feeling,” she said, comfortingly. “I never wanted a husband. I was five, and I knew I wanted a wife. But it was wrong. I knew, even at that age, that my parents, my sister, my brother, none of them would accept it. And then when I got older and learned about the laws…” She sighed and shook her head. “There’s nothing wrong with being a Liker, Alexandra,” she said.

She winced at the use of the word.

“Do you prefer homophile?” Chris asked, noticing Alex‘s reaction.

Alexandra made a face. “No. It makes it sound even worse.”

“They’re just words. Labels. Made by the men to give a name to what they’re threatened by, which is strong women who don’t need men.”

Alexandra blinked rapidly.

“Think about it,” Chris encouraged her. “Men dislike women who like women because they have no need of men. It’s got very little to do with genitalia or romantic love and all to do with the power that so-called normal men exude and wield over those of us they don’t consider normal.” She shrugged. “That’s why we’re punished for our feelings. We’re punished for not needing, not wanting, a ‘normal’ man, because it’s these ‘normal’ men who are in power. And they’re loathe to lose it. Hence the ridiculous laws.”

Alexandra sat quietly for a moment. “But surely there’s something… not quite right with Likers, if it’s illegal?”

Chris laughed. “You’re listening to the normal propaganda, Alexandra. If you had a choice, if you could wipe out any so-called abnormal feelings you’ve had throughout your life, would you?”

She nodded.

“But have you been able to? Push them away, I mean.”

Alexandra frowned and shook her head.

“So you’re not in control of them?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So wouldn’t that point to less of a moral failing on your part and more to a possible biological difference within you?”

It stunned her.

“And what about your childhood?”

“What about it?” she asked.

“Were you exposed to any Likers or any homophiles?”

“Of course not,” she said, almost insulted at the prospect. Her family had been normal, decent people.

“And yet, here you are, thinking these thoughts. With no kind of ‘corruption’,” Chris pointed out.

Again, she was shocked into silence.

Chris smiled kindly. “I think I’ve probably made a mess of your brain,” she said. “Take some time. Think about it. Talk to people here,” she encouraged her. “And, if you’d like to go upstairs with me down the road, well, you just say the word.” She winked and then headed over to the refreshment table, leaving Alexandra thoroughly unable to speak.

She spent a few minutes finishing her wine and then chatted with Vicki for a little while. The woman made her both comfortable and uncomfortable and Alexandra couldn’t quite figure out why. She didn’t behave inappropriately; she didn’t look like what society had taught Alexandra that a typical female Liker would look like. She was a perfectly lovely woman, and they chatted about a broad range of topics. Not once did Vicki bring up the knitting circle, nor Likers, nor homophilia.

And yet, Alexandra was somewhat uncomfortable in her presence. She gazed at the woman’s red curls, which were immaculately styled, large ringlets cascading down to her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel — not quite green, not quite brown, but a mix in between somewhere. She found she enjoyed Vicki’s sense of humour and especially enjoyed her laugh.

As Vicki excused herself to say goodbye to a departing circle member, Alexandra watched the other woman. She noticed the way her skirt clung to her hips, her thighs, her… She blinked rapidly and averted her gaze. Her eyes darted frantically around the room. Was it being in the presence of these women that had allowed her to look at Vicki’s body in that way? She’d always admired other attractive women, noting that she wished her hair would bounce like that, or wishing her breasts were slightly fuller, or that her stomach were just a bit flatter, or even that her rear were a little rounder, but she hadn’t been comparing herself to Vicki just now. She had been _appreciating_ Vicki.

She went back to her original seat and picked up her knitting basket, walking purposefully back down the hallway. She passed by Vicki, who was saying goodbye to another woman.

“Hope to see you next week, Alexandra,” she smiled.

“We’ll see,” she replied, with a wave, before leaving hurriedly.

She was home by ten o’clock and, thankfully, Duncan was already asleep. She got changed, removed her makeup, then crawled into bed next to him.

Alexandra didn’t sleep at all that night. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. If anything, the experience that evening had just made her thoughts _worse_. As the dawn’s light streamed through the bedroom windows, she made the decision she wouldn’t go back to the knitting circle.

***

Duncan, of course, didn’t ask her about her outing the next day, or at any point throughout the week, until the following Tuesday morning. She’d just served him his poached eggs, just the way he liked them, with a side of toast. Victoria, her youngest, had been in the high chair, making a mess, while Elizabeth had been eating her cereal quietly, the tablet in front of her tuned to an educational program.

“Oh, darling,” he’d said, “how was the knitting group last week? Are you going again tonight?”

She’d paused in her scrubbing of a dish, thankful she was facing the sink and the window to their backyard and not looking directly at her husband.

“Oh, you know, mostly just gossiping ladies,” she said, forcing herself to smile, as she turned to him. “I don’t think I’ll go back.”

“That’s too bad,” Duncan had said. “It might do you good to go out and chat with some other women.” He’d harrumphed. “You spend too much time in the house. I think it would be good for you.”

That was how Alexandra found herself, once again, outside the house that Tuesday evening, shortly before eight o’clock. She’d parked several streets away, having left her wallet at home and tucked her driver’s license into the glove compartment.

Knowing what to expect made it less awkward for her, though she did her best to avoid Vicki.

She ended up chatting most of the evening with a dark-haired woman who was a few years older than her, who called herself Luce. To her surprise, she had introduced herself as Alex. She’d done it automatically, without thought. Just… “Hi, I’m Alex.”

Sinking back into that name had felt _right_. She’d always liked it so much better than Alexandra. She’d always _felt_ like an Alex as opposed to an Alexandra, or Lexie, or Alexa or even Sandy.

When she left, at about half-past ten, after a lovely evening of conversation with Luce and a couple of others, Vicki waved. “Good to see you, Alexandra.”

“Alex,” she corrected, with a smile.

“Alex,” Vicki had repeated, returning the smile. “Hope we’ll see you next week, Alex.”

She nodded. It had felt so good to reclaim that name, even for a few hours, and she was eager to slip back into being Alex the following week.

***

Alexandra walked up to the house for the third Tuesday in a row. For the first time, there was no hesitation on her part.

“Alex,” Bea greeted, “good to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Bea,” she said, walking in without pause and walking down the long hallway to the lounge. The house had clearly undergone extensive renovations in the past to make it larger though it didn’t seem quite as large from the front. The added space was all towards the rear of the house, reducing the yard’s size in favour of the depth of the house. From the house’s position on a hill, only the immediate neighbours would notice that the house was truly as large as it was. She nodded to herself in appreciation. The ladies certainly knew what they were doing, and she gained added respect for the knitting circle organizers.

“Alex, welcome back,” Vicki smiled.

She felt herself falter in her steps at Vicki’s smile, but quickly recovered. “Hi,” she smiled back, with a small wave. She deposited her basket on a seat and went right for the wine.

“Good to see you, Alexandra,” Jenny, whom she’d met at the first meeting, said, as she approached the refreshments.

“Alex,” she corrected, gently.

“Alex,” repeated Jenny. “I guess you‘re getting more comfortable?”

She poured herself a glass of red. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Good,” Jenny replied, holding up her own glass of wine. “To being more comfortable,” she toasted.

Alexandra — no, she was _Alex_ here — clinked her glass against Jenny’s. “I’ll drink to that,” she chuckled, and took a sip of her wine.

As was usual, more women streamed in closer to eight. Then, as the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the top of the hour, Vicki launched into the regular rules. Feeling bolder than she had previously, Alex allowed herself to observe the redhead. She enjoyed the now-familiar mannerisms; the way Vicki carried herself, the way she used her hands for emphasis, the way her eyes took in absolutely everything. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was feeling less anxious or awkward about appreciating Vicki’s beauty. Maybe it was that while _Alexandra_ was married to a man and had two young daughters, _Alex_ was free to discover more about herself. Or, perhaps it was simply the passage of time. It had been two weeks since she’d first arrived at the knitting circle, two weeks since Chris had talked to her about men keeping themselves in power, two weeks since she’d first identified her appreciation of Vicki as something other than simple admiration.

Or was it all the above? Whatever the case, Alex let her eyes briefly roam over Vicki’s body. She wasn’t sure whether the woman had children or not. She wore a wedding ring, though, so it was a safe assumption. If she did have children, she’d worked hard to get herself looking this good. Alex took a sip of wine, not breaking her gaze. Of course, it was difficult to look at another woman’s body and not make comparisons. She’d done a fair job of getting back into shape after the children, but she still had cellulite and stretch marks she hadn’t had before, and her stomach wasn’t as flat as it had once been. Still, she couldn’t complain too much. If anything, she thought she was curvier after having children, rather than not curvy enough beforehand.

Vicki wished them all a good evening and saw Alex looking up at her. To Alex’s surprise, Vicki walked over and took a seat by her.

“Everything all right, Alex?” she asked, gently.

She was blushing. “Uh, yeah, yeah, good, yeah,” she babbled, before taking another sip of wine.

She smiled kindly. “It’s okay,” she said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Alex looked up at that.

“It’s a safe space,” she said, repeating the rule. “This place is for people to figure out who they are, and to allow people to make meaningful connections,” she explained. “It’s _all right_ if you think someone’s attractive, Alex.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “Oh,” she said. “Yeah?”

Vicki nodded and patted Alex’s knee. “Of course, I should mention that I’m a collaborator,” she said.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “I forgot. I promise, you’ll get used to the language. What collaborator means is that I’m here to help and I don’t agree with the laws and some of my closest friends are Likers.”

She got it. “But you’re not.”

She shook her head. “I’m not, no,” she said, gently. “I’m flattered, though,” she smiled.

Alex blushed again and looked down at her wine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Alex.”

She looked up.

“I mean it. You did nothing wrong.” Vicki’s hazel eyes pinned hers and she had no choice but to believe her.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Alex shook her head. “So you help… people… by helping to provide a safe space, by encouraging connections, all at great personal risk to yourself?”

Vicki shrugged. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

“But why? If you’re not, uh, like-minded, shall we say?”

“My sister is. And I love my sister.” She sighed. “They hauled her off to prison in the middle of the night, one night. Our parents just let that happen.” She set her jaw. “I can’t do anything for my sister. She’s locked up for life. So I do what I can to make sure that people like my sister have a safe place to explore those ideas, those thoughts, those acts.”

“That’s…” Alex shook her head. “I’m so sorry to hear about your sister,” she said. “And I’m so glad to know we have allies like you. Thank you,” she said, sincerely.

Vicki grinned.

“What?” Alex asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said, still smiling.

“No, really, what?”

Vicki looked up at her. “You said ‘we’.”

Alex’s eyes widened.

“I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable here, Alex,” she said, softly, then stood and headed to the knitting table, leaving Alex to mull over her choice of words.

When Alexandra returned home that night, she didn’t think about _it_ , and, for the first time in months, she slept soundly.

***

Tuesday evenings at the knitting circle became a regular thing over the course of the next few weeks. Alex had even gone upstairs with Chris twice. Mostly, they’d talked, but they’d also kissed. She knew she wasn’t attracted to Chris the way she was to Vicki, but Chris was happy to introduce her to certain things she’d always been curious about, but had never permitted herself to think about, much less do.

It had been pleasant. Soft and gentle. She’d been genuinely surprised when Chris had lightly run her tongue along her own lower lip, rather than attempt to shove the entirety of her tongue into her mouth the way Duncan did. She’d also been surprised to realize both she and Chris had lipstick marks on their necks. This would be an adjustment.

Still, there wasn’t anyone she’d really connected with, which Chris said was okay.

“You’ll know,” she had said. “When you see her, you’ll know.”

The most fascinating part of Tuesday evenings, though, at least to Alex, was how she was changing. As soon as she entered the house, she felt as though she was shedding an exterior layer of herself. Being in the house, being among these women, being _Alex_ , meant that she was relearning how to be who she was before she’d become Mrs. Duncan Williams. Before she’d become “Mama”. She loved her girls, she did. It was just so refreshing, so wonderfully freeing to get back to being _Alex Danvers_ , someone she hadn’t been since she was ten years old. For three hours every week, she got that chance. The other 165 hours, she was Alexandra, she was “darling” or “dear”, she was “Mama”. But those three hours on Tuesday nights? She was _Alex_. She was _herself_. And, thanks to the ladies at the circle, she learned that it was _okay_ to be herself. That there was nothing wrong with her.

One Tuesday evening, a couple of months after she’d first gone, Alex was chatting with Jenny and Chris over their wine when she caught sight of a new woman in the crowd. Every week or two, there were women Alex hadn’t yet met, whether they were new to that particular circle, or old-time members who’d come back, or brand-new to the entire experience, the way Alex had been.

No one had ever affected her the way just looking at this woman did.

She was beyond gorgeous. Her skin was a warm light brown, her hair almost black, flowing down beyond her shoulders in large waves. Alex was transfixed, watching the woman. She wore a sensible, conservative black skirt that came to her knees, a light blue, short-sleeved shirt, with a matching sweater hanging off her left arm, on which she carried her knitting basket. She was speaking with Vicki. And Alex couldn’t take her eyes off her.

The clock chimed, noting the top of the hour and Vicki launched into the now-familiar speech and took a moment to introduce the new woman.

“Ladies, this is Maggie. She’s come to us from Midwest Knitting Circle number five.”

 _Maggie._ Alex turned the name around in her mind and she wondered how it would feel leaving her lips. She took a sip of her wine and, once Vicki ended her introduction, she excused herself from Chris and Jenny’s conversation and went directly to Maggie.

“Hello, Maggie,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Alex.”

The woman turned to her and smiled widely, showing off her dimples and clasping her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, shaking Alex’s hand gently.

Alex could have died of happiness. Her hand was warm and soft; her grip was gentle, but firm. What she couldn’t stop gawking at, though, were the other woman’s dark eyes. She could swear they twinkled.

“Uh.” She cleared her throat. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said, honestly.

“Aren’t you a sweet-talker?” she asked, dimples showing again.

Alex blushed, rendered utterly speechless.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. I’ll chat with you later?”

She nodded and could have wept as Maggie pulled her hand out of hers. She watched as Maggie walked over to the table and poured a glass of wine.

Chris came up to Alex. “You all right there?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, uh, fine, good, yeah,” she said, absently, still watching Maggie.

Chris laughed. “Come sit down,” she said. “You look like you just got struck by lightning.” She guided Alex by the elbow back to her seat.

“Alex, honey, I know you’re new to this, but that was the best reaction to a beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Jenny giggled.

“What?” she said, concerned.

“If you were a cartoon character,” Chris said, “you’d have little pink hearts for eyes.”

“You shush!” Alex laughed.

“It’s true,” Jenny said, “you look like Cupid’s shot you in the heart.” She grinned. “It’s cute.”

“She’s just…” Alex exhaled, still gazing towards her. “So beautiful.”

“Yup, she’s a goner,” Chris said to Jenny.

“Is this…” Alex looked at her friends. “Is this, uh…”

“Normal? So to speak?” Jenny asked.

Alex nodded.

“Absolutely,” Chris said. “Like I said. You just _know_.”

Alex turned to her. “So… now what?”

“Ask her upstairs,” laughed Jenny.

She blushed a deep crimson.

“Jenny, you hush,” Chris said. “You talk to her, Alex. Get to know her. Make her laugh. There’s no rush.”

Alex took a breath. “Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that, sure,” she said, looking back at Maggie, who was chatting casually with another woman Alex recognized as Kerry. “What do I talk to her about?”

“Oh, boy, she’s got it bad,” Jenny said. “If you two will excuse me?” She patted Alex on the shoulder and went to talk to Syd and Toni.

“No, I mean it, Chris,” Alex said, flustered. “What do I even talk to her about?”

“Well, she’s from the Midwest. You could ask about that. Ask her if she’s just visiting or if she’s here to stay.”

Alex took another deep breath. “Sure. Okay. Great. Yes. I can do that,” she said.

“Well, go on.”

“Now?!” she exclaimed.

“No time like the present. Go for it,” she encouraged her.

Alex downed the bit of wine that remained in her glass, both for courage and as an excuse to get back to the refreshments table. She turned to Chris. “Thanks,” she smiled.

“Anytime,” Chris said, sitting back to watch the show.

Alex walked over to the table and refilled her glass and took two canapés with her as she joined the conversation between Kerry and Maggie.

“Ladies,” she said, quietly.

“Hey Alex,” Kerry said, while Maggie nodded. “I was just talking to Maggie about the Midwest. She’s from Nebraska.”

“Oh, interesting,” she said. “Are you here for long?”

Maggie nodded. “We just moved here, so we’re here for the foreseeable future,” she said. The implication was clear — her husband had gotten a job in the city.

“I hope we’ll see you here regularly,” Kerry said, amiably. “You were part of a circle in Nebraska?”

Maggie nodded. “I used to go weekly, but in later years, I didn’t really go that often,” she said, “but a new city, you know. I was encouraged to get out and meet some ladies.” She grinned at that.

Alex smiled back, understanding what she was saying. Her husband hadn’t been particularly encouraging of the group in Nebraska, but seemed to be more encouraging now they were in a new city.

“Well, I’m new here myself,” Alex said. “Everyone here has been so very kind and welcoming.”

“Oh, where did you move from?” Maggie asked.

“I, uh, I mean, I…” She exhaled. “I’ve lived here my whole life, but I’m, uh, new. To _things_ ,” she said, fully aware she was blushing, yet again.

Maggie nodded, a smile of understanding on her lips. “Well,” she said, “I’ve known, about myself, for pretty much my entire life. If you ever want to talk about, uh, _things_ , I’d be happy to chat.”

She smiled. “Thank you,” she said, “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Anytime, Alex. I mean it,” Maggie said. “I know it can be confusing.”

“You’re not kidding,” Alex said, somewhat exaggeratedly, causing both Kerry and Maggie to chuckle. “But the circle here has been so nice and helpful, for a, uh, a newbie, like myself.”

“That’s good to hear,” Maggie nodded.

Vicki joined them and the four of them continued chatting for before moving to the nearby sitting area. After a long conversation, Alex excused herself and returned to where Chris was chatting with Syd.

“Well?”

“She just moved here,” Alex said.

“Well, that’s good news. Did you two have a chance to talk amongst yourselves?”

Alex shook her head.

“Well, maybe next week, yeah?”

She exhaled. Next week was so far away.

When Alexandra returned home that night, she fell asleep dreaming of dark brown eyes twinkling at her.

***

The next week, Alexandra arrived at the house earlier than she usually did. She was eager to see Maggie again.

She spent the 27 minutes until eight o’clock alternately pacing, drinking, eating, talking and drinking more, until, just before eight, from her seat near Chris and Jenny, she saw Maggie file in, chatting attentively with Toni.

Alex was gawking. She knew she was. The words “close your mouth please, Michael, we are not a codfish” suddenly sounded in her mind and she closed her mouth and sat up straight, just as Maggie’s eyes found her. Alex smiled at her and Maggie returned it before sitting down next to Toni, just as the grandfather clock sounded.

“You didn’t hear a single thing I said, did you?” Chris accused.

“Hm, what? Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “No, I didn’t.”

She grinned. “I didn’t say anything. I saw her come in and I knew you wouldn’t be able to pay attention to anything else.”

“Chris!” she laughed, nudging the woman with her elbow. “It’s not nice to tease others,” she chided.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jenny added, “I kind of like being teased.”

Alex reddened and was grateful when Vicki started her introduction.

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies?” Alex said, as soon as she was finished.

“Go get the girl, Alex,” Chris teased.

“Shush!” Alex said, elbowing her again before heading to the refreshments table, where Maggie was pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Hey Maggie,” she said, as casually as she could.

“Alex! I was hoping you’d turn up,” she said. “Wine?”

“Oh God, yes, please,” she replied, holding out her glass.

“There you go,” said Maggie, putting the bottle back down on the table. “Cheers.”

She smiled, and they clinked glasses.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy, easy,” Maggie said, reaching out and gently grasping Alex’s arm before she could take a sip.

Alex blinked and Maggie released her arm. “What?”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to not look in the eye of the person you’re toasting with?”

“No?”

“Well, then, I’m telling you. It’s rude. Anytime you’re toasting with someone, you have to look one another in the eye or it’s bad luck,” she explained. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” She smiled. “Cheers.”

Deliberately, Maggie held her glass up and looked straight into Alex’s eyes and, if Alex had to guess, her soul.

She took a breath and met Maggie’s gaze and clinked their glasses. “Cheers,” she said, softly.

“And now you can have a drink,” she said, still looking at Alex while having a sip.

“Well, thank you,” she said, “for educating me on the finer points of toasting.”

“Of course,” Maggie smiled. She looked around. “Would you care to have a seat and chat?”

“I’d love to,” she said, earnestly.

They settled themselves on the large sofa in the sitting area.

“So, Alex,” Maggie said, turning to face her, an elbow on the back of the sofa, her hand propping up her head. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Uh, well,” she said, mindful of the rules, although she wanted to tell Maggie everything, from her full name to her address, from her childhood memories to her phone number. “I grew up here, in the city. I am absolutely terrible at knitting, so, uh, I was encouraged, shall we say, to join this circle.”

Maggie laughed at that.

“In what little free time I have, I enjoy reading, watching television and such. I’m not a great cook, but at least the smoke detectors don’t go off any longer.”

Maggie smiled again. “Tell me about coming to the circle.”

“A friend of mine was the, uh, unfortunate recipient of some of my thoughts while I was tipsy,” she said. “Well, actually, fortunate. She didn’t turn me in or anything, made calls on my behalf and her friend’s cousin had been a part of the circle here.”

Maggie nodded. “So how scandalized were you on your first visit?”

Alex laughed. “So much. So very, very much.”

Maggie tilted her head. “Seems like you’re mostly over that.”

“Getting there,” she agreed, nodding. “I, uh, I felt better, you know? Understanding that while the thoughts I had in my head weren’t common, but they weren’t abnormal.” She considered. “I walked out of here that first night thinking about myself and this place and what all that meant and didn’t sleep a wink that night. But…” She trailed off.

“But?”

“But, for the first time, I felt as though maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with me, you know?”

She nodded.

“And then I came back, because my—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Because I was _encouraged_ to get out and socialize more. And that’s when I started going by Alex.”

Maggie smiled. “You were an Alex as a kid, weren’t you?”

She nodded. “Until I was ten and told that it ‘wouldn’t do’ for a young lady to have such a masculine nickname.” She shook her head. “Rediscovering who _Alex_ is has been such a wonderful experience, if nothing else. Here, I can be me. I’m not the lesser-half of a couple. I’m not the primary caregiver. I’m free. To be me.” She smiled. “And finally? Finally, I think I’m starting to _get_ me.” She looked over at Maggie. “I guess that might sound silly, considering you’ve known your whole life,” she said, referencing what Maggie had mentioned the previous week.

“Not at all,” she said, softly. “It’s brave to allow yourself to embrace this facet of yourself, even if it’s only for a few hours a week.”

She quirked a smile. “What about you?”

“Me?” She chuckled. “I helped _found_ the circles in Nebraska.”

“Really?” Alex asked, her eyes widened.

She nodded. “Like I said,” she said, looking into Alex’s eyes. “I’ve always known I’m attracted to women.”

Alex swallowed. Despite all that she’d seen and discussed and done, hearing things laid out so bluntly was always a shock. There was something about putting words to something that gave it more heft.

“So I did something about it in Nebraska, since I lived in such a small town,” she said, “and so I started the circles out there.”

“But you have a h— uh, I mean, you’re…?” she tried asking.

Maggie nodded. “Yes. As we all are,” she said, sitting up and wiggling her left ring finger at Alex, the gold band answering Alex’s question about whether or not she was married. “It’s not ideal but it works for now.” She rested her arm along the back of the couch.

She furrowed her brow. “Does he know?”

She laughed, a full-on, true laugh. “Oh my, Alex, no, of course not,” she said, still laughing.

Alex flushed, again. “Sorry, it sounded like…”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “And things are… well, they’re all right,” she said, a smile still on her face. A smile meant for _her_ , Alex realized.

She smiled back.

“And,” Maggie added, “I’m glad to have found this circle,” she said.

“Me too,” Alex said, gazing into the deep brown eyes across from her.

“Alex?”

“Hm?”

“Have you gone upstairs yet with anyone?” Maggie murmured.

She inhaled sharply.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maggie said, looking away, “forget I asked. I didn’t mean to pry or to be so forward.”

Alex swallowed and placed her right hand over Maggie’s on the back of the couch. Maggie turned back to her.

“I’d very much like to go upstairs with you, if that’s what you were asking,” she said, quietly, “if only to get to know you a little better. If that would be all right.”

Maggie smiled gently. “It was what I was asking,” she acknowledged, “and I think that would be lovely,” she said, taking Alex’s hand in her own and standing. She helped Alex to her feet and, together, they left the lounge to go to the stairs.

On her way out, Alex turned and saw Chris giving her a thumbs up. She gave her a brilliant grin.

Hands still clasped, they made their way upstairs, Maggie leading the way. She paused at the upstairs hallway, seeing closed doors in front of her.

“Down here,” Alex said, quietly, noticing an open door tucked away at the end of the hallway.

“So you _have_ been upstairs before?” Maggie asked, gently, teasingly.

“Maybe a couple of times,” she answered, as she led them to the door and pushed the door open. Like the others, it was a bedroom, with a queen-sized bed taking up most of the space. There were other pieces of furniture, such as nightstands and lamps, a chair that was much more for decoration than anything else and a bookshelf and a bureau, with a large mirror over it, facing the door, not the bed. There was also a small bathroom attached, just like in all the other rooms, with a shower stall and sink. The closet had a false wall in the back, which, when triggered, would lead to a hidden staircase, in case of _emergency_ , as Vicki referred to it. Chris had kindly showed her how the mechanism worked, not that Alex quite understood what was meant by _emergency_ , even still.

Maggie shut the door behind them. “Have a seat,” she said, smiling.

Alex took a deep breath. Her brain didn’t feel as though it was working at all. Her heart, on the other hand, was pounding so hard it threatened to burst out of her chest. She sat down on the edge of the bed and, out of habit, smoothed out the front of her skirt.

Maggie sat down next to her. Not right up against her, which was thoughtful and kind of her, but close enough to make her intentions known.

“Tell me, Alex,” she said, gently, “have you kissed another woman before?”

Alex turned to face her and nodded, slowly. “A bit, yes,” she said.

Maggie smiled. “Did you like it?”

She inhaled deeply, Maggie’s scent tickling her nostrils. “It was okay,” she said. “But,” she added, quickly, noticing Maggie’s questioning look, “I think, uh, I think I would enjoy it more with a woman…” She paused. “With a woman I’m attracted to,” she said, softly.

Maggie reached out with her right hand and gently brushed her her fingertips across Alex’s left cheek. “And are you attracted to me, Alex?” she asked, her voice pitched low.

Her lips parted unconsciously as she nodded, eyes locked with Maggie’s.

“Good,” she said, and then Maggie was cupping her face and Maggie’s lips were on hers.

Alex closed her eyes and her eyebrows rose in surprise as the gentle touch of Maggie’s lips pressed against hers. She kissed her back, and she brought her hands up to grip Maggie’s shoulders as she relaxed into the kiss.

She was hardly capable of conscious thought. Later, when she’d remember it, she’d remember fireworks exploding, how her entire body responded to the simple kiss, to the caressing of her face, to Maggie’s smell and taste, to the feeling of the tip of Maggie’s tongue teasing her own. She’d remember the one coherent thought she was capable of: _finally_.

In those few moments, the entirety of her life suddenly made sense.

When Maggie pulled back, eventually, she looked into Alex’s eyes. “You okay?” she murmured.

Alex took a breath. “Wow.”

She smiled. “Wow?”

Closing her eyes, Alex let herself fall backwards on the bed, smiling hugely. “Wow.”

Maggie laughed. “Really? Wow?”

Alex opened her eyes. “Yes, really, wow,” she giggled. She paused. “Wait, was that not _wow_ for you?” she asked, suddenly worried.

“Oh, it was,” Maggie said, “don’t get me wrong,” she reassured her, stretching out on her side beside Alex, propping herself up on her right arm. “I take it that, uh, was better than your other experiences?”

Alex looked up at her. “Remember what I said, earlier? Downstairs? About finally starting to _get_ me?”

Maggie nodded.

“I get me, now. Entirely.”

She laughed.

“No, no, it’s true,” she insisted, rolling over and gazing into Maggie’s eyes. “If that’s what a kiss is supposed to be like, then… Then I’m a Liker,” she said, softly.

“That your first time saying it?” It wasn’t an accusation from a more experienced woman. It was an honest question.

She nodded.

Maggie smiled. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “I know it’s not easy.”

“You made it easy,” Alex said. “Thank you.”

“I’d like to take credit for it, really,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand on Alex’s hip, “but it’s your journey. And I’m glad if I’ve been able to be a tiny bit of help.”

She was new at this, but she knew enough to know she wanted more. “There’s, uh, a, um, a lot of my journey left to go,” she said, softly, reaching out to rest her hand on Maggie’s hip.

“Oh, is there?” she asked, innocently.

“Mm hmm,” Alex said. “And I would be ever so grateful if you’d consider… accompanying me on that journey.”

Maggie laughed and leaned over and kissed her sweetly. “I presume this would be quite the undertaking,” she said, “and that it would take a few weeks to, uh, perhaps get where you need to go?”

She blushed. “Maybe. But perhaps not that long,” she said. To prove her point, she leaned forward and kissed Maggie gently, sucking softly on her lower lip, while sliding her hand up to the back of Maggie’s neck.

Maggie retaliated, pulling her upper lip between hers and swiping her tongue along it, drawing a low groan from Alex. She moved her hand down, sliding it over the back of her skirt, over her cheek, and squeezed.

Alex felt as though she might combust. Actually, literally, truly burst into flames. She pulled away, panting.

“That okay?” murmured Maggie.

Alex fell sideways on to her back again. “It all makes sense, now,” she muttered. “Love songs. Romance novels. Romantic comedies. Everything makes sense.”

Maggie smiled. “And sex?”

“Oh my God,” she laughed. “Is this… is this how you’re supposed to feel when having sex with a man?” She snorted. “Sex with a man doesn’t hold a candle to a kiss with you.”

“You flatter me.” She considered. “Or, the men you’ve had sex with are legitimately terrible,” she joked.

“Man,” she corrected her. There had only been Duncan.

“Ah,” Maggie nodded, understanding.

“I just…” She blew out a breath and sat up. “I never really liked dating. I tried. I got asked out,” she underlined. “I just… never liked being…” She cleared her throat. “Intimate,” she finished. “I just… I don’t know, I didn’t think it was the way I was built?”

Maggie sat up and lightly rubbed circles on her back.

“And then I had these other thoughts, but I thought that was normal, that everyone had those thoughts.” She exhaled. “And after I was married, I just thought that being intimate with someone was just… not my thing.”

“And now?” she asked, gently.

Alex turned to her, their faces inches apart. “Now I know what I’ve been missing all of these years,” she said, before snagging a quick kiss. Even that small act short-circuited her brain for an instant.

“I’ll be happy to show you what else you’ve been missing,” Maggie murmured.

She smiled at her. “Uh, Maggie, I, uh, I… I know that there are, uh, you know, other women in the circle, and, I just… I don’t want you to feel as though you shouldn’t, uh… explore your options.”

Maggie smiled. “I’m not here just to get laid, Alex.”

“No?”

“I’m here to connect with someone,” she said. “You know, that moment when you lay your eyes on someone and something just… clicks? Falls into place?”

Alex swallowed. “I think so.”

“Well, I think I may have already clicked with someone,” Maggie murmured, leaning in towards her, so close they were breathing the same air.

Alex smiled. “Me, too,” she whispered.

Maggie closed the gap between them and then they were kissing again, deeper, longer than before. Alex shut her mind off letting herself get lost in the moment. In that room, there was no Duncan, no Victoria, or Elizabeth, not even an Alexandra. It was just Alex and Maggie and she was perfectly fine with that.

When the grandfather clock chimed to signal it was half-past ten, Maggie pulled back, only for Alex to push her on to her back and continue their gentle, languid kissing. It had been exploratory and soft, never quite going past a medium boil, which was both good and bad for Alex. It was good because she wasn’t sure she was ready to go beyond necking. It was also bad because part of her was dying for Maggie to undress her and kiss her and touch her. Still, she trusted the woman, who had been cautious and respectful of any boundaries.

When the clock chimed a quarter to eleven, Maggie insisted they stop and make themselves presentable. Alex’s braid had partly fallen out, they both had lipstick smears all over their necks and faces. Reluctantly, Alex knew the other woman was right and so they took turns fixing themselves up at the large mirror by the bureau. Alex wasn’t particularly concerned that Duncan would be awake — he was notoriously early to bed and early to rise — but there was no harm in making absolutely certain she was above any suspicion.

It was with great reluctance that the two of them got ready to leave the room. Alex pulled Maggie to her and held her tightly. “See you next week,” she said, gently.

“Next week,” Maggie promised, kissing her softly, once more.

The two of them left the room and, as Maggie went to fetch her knitting basket, Alex headed over to the knitting table. Andy had made great progress on her pattern for her, so if Duncan asked what she did every Tuesday night, at least she could point to something. When Alex turned around, Maggie was already gone. She nodded, knowing it was for the best. She knew she’d be tempted to follow Maggie home, damning all the consequences of doing so.

She waved to the few remaining women in the lounge and thanked Vicki for a lovely evening before leaving the house and walking to her car.

Once home, Duncan was asleep, as usual. She got ready for bed and climbed in next to him, still unable to believe how many years she felt she’d wasted, trying to fit herself into this life of subservience to a man she wasn’t even attracted to. It’s not that he wasn’t objectively attractive, she clarified to herself, but there was just no way _she_ could ever be attracted to him.

As she lay there, in her marital bed, her husband snoring gently beside her, she affirmed it to herself. She was a Liker. And her name was Alex.

***

That Friday evening, as Alex prepared dinner, while keeping one child out of trouble and the other from melting down, Duncan came home and, as was his habit, he came into the kitchen to greet his family.

“Darling,” he said, kissing her cheek lightly.

“How was your day?” she asked, stirring a boiling pot of rice.

“Long,” he admitted, picking up his eldest child and blowing a raspberry on her belly. “How was yours, Elizabeth?” he asked. “Did you have a good day with Mama?”

“Drew pictures!” she said, excitedly.

“Oh, marvelous!” he exclaimed. “Will you show me?”

“Yes!”

“Careful with her and the markers,” Alex said, tiredly, “she has this urge to colour the sofa a peculiar shade of fuchsia.”

He laughed. “Shall do,” he said, ushering Elizabeth into the next room. “I’ll be right in,” he called. Duncan moved to the high chair where Victoria was contentedly eating bits of cracker. “Oh, Alexandra,” he said, as he bent down to play with the toddler for a moment, “I need to work late next Tuesday,” he said.

Her heart sank. “Tuesday?”

“Yes, Tuesday. Big meeting with everyone and such. So sorry that you’ll miss out on your gossip, I mean, _knitting_ session with the ladies,” he chuckled. “But there’s always the following week,” he said. He kissed Victoria on the top of her head. “Dinner smells divine, my dear,” he said, walking up to her and kissing her cheek again.

“Daddy!” a little voice called.

“Coming!” he called back.

As her husband headed into the den to colour with their eldest, Alex let her shoulders sag. Not only would she miss out on seeing Maggie, but she had no earthly way to let her know she wouldn’t be there.

***

Tuesday came and went and Alex couldn’t settle down. She hoped that Duncan would get back before half-past ten so she could race out to the house, if only for a few minutes, to see Maggie and let her know she hadn’t wanted to stay away, but she’d had no choice.

He’d only arrived after eleven. Apparently he and some new partners had all gone out for some cigars and drinks after the meeting. She did her best to hide her disappointment, but hadn’t done a good enough job and Duncan, bless him, had promised to make it up to her.

The week until the following Tuesday was one of the longest weeks of Alex’s life, but it finally arrived.

She fixed herself up, grabbed her knitting basket, kissed her husband goodbye and was at the house by 7:31 in the evening. While the upstairs and downstairs rooms weren’t open until after the introductory speech, and displays of affection weren’t permitted in the lounge, hopefully she could at least find Maggie there early and explain.

Alex was the first to arrive after Bea and Vicki.

“We missed you last week,” Vicki said, as she and Alex poured themselves some wine.

She sighed. “I missed being here last week,” she said. “Something unavoidable came up and so I was needed at home.”

“Everything all right?”

She nodded. “Just a, uh, a _thing_ ,” she said.

Vicki nodded.

“Is there any way I can somehow communicate that I’m not coming?” she asked.

“Regrettably not,” Vicki said. “Communications can be intercepted. As such, we all just accept that perhaps, sometimes, plans will fall through.”

Alex nodded. “Frustrating, but smart.”

Vicki grinned. “We’ve been doing this a long time, Alex. That’s also why we’ve got the emergency system set up. The safety of our members is our top concern.”

“We appreciate it,” she said. “Thank you.”

Maggie arrived just before the introduction began and Alex waved to her. She broke into a grin and sat by her.

“Missed you last week,” she murmured, even as Vicki began her speech.

“Couldn’t be avoided,” Alex whispered back. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was wondering if you’d changed your mind.”

Alex shook her head. “I’ll prove to you that’s not the case in just a few minutes.”

“Can’t wait,” Maggie murmured.

As soon as Vicki finished speaking, Maggie grabbed Alex’s hand, and they headed up the stairs. They walked into the first room they saw and Maggie pushed Alex against the door, shutting it firmly, and kissing her thoroughly.

She couldn’t help the moan that came from deep within her as she melted into the other woman’s embrace. Maggie’s lips moved against hers and her tongue trailed across her bottom lip and suddenly, Alex turned the tables, swinging Maggie around, pushing her against the door and running her hands down to hold Maggie’s hips firmly.

Maggie broke away, breathing hard, with a smile. “Well, well, someone learns quickly,” she grinned.

“I want to learn more,” Alex breathed in her ear before nibbling at her lobe.

“I think that can be arranged,” Maggie said, softly. She pushed past Alex to get to the bed and slipped off her heels.

Alex slid out of her flats and realized that with both of them in bare feet, she was taller than Maggie by several inches. “You’re short,” she commented, bemused.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to learn a few things,” she teased, laying on the far side of the bed, propping herself up on her right elbow.

Alex joined her on the bed and soon, they were kissing.

They spent the evening kissing passionately and languidly, giggling and talking. Alex definitely learned a few things and was eager to learn a few more, but Maggie, ever thoughtful, insisted they stop new things for the evening and, instead, had Alex curl up with her. They lay there for a few precious minutes, between half-past ten and a quarter to eleven, just _being_ together. Alex had her head on Maggie’s bare chest and she listened to the reassuring beat of Maggie’s heart, while her hand gently drew delicate designs and patterns on Maggie’s stomach. She smiled to herself.

“What?” asked Maggie, softly.

“I thought it would take me a lot longer to get used to this.”

“This?”

Alex smirked and dragged her hand up to gently tease Maggie’s left breast, before cupping it in her hand. “This.”

“Oh,” Maggie breathed. “That.”

Alex scratched her nails gently down Maggie’s side. “Can’t wait for next week.”

“Mmm,” Maggie said, “speaking of…”

“Yes?”

She pressed the palm of her left hand against Alex’s right. “See any differences?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Not sure what you mean. My hand is bigger?” she asked.

“I was referring to these,” she said, lightly tapping Alex’s much-lengthier nails. “You might want to consider trimming them.”

She frowned and pushed herself up on to her elbow. “Why?” She held her hand out and admired them, a fresh coat of her favourite blue polish on them. “I like them.”

Maggie laughed out loud. “You… are adorable. Will you trust me and cut your fingernails short before next week? Please?”

“No, I want you to tell me why,” she pouted.

“Oh, to be a brand-new Liker again,” Maggie sighed. “Alex, do you, uh, do you know what two women do in bed together?”

“I think I have some kind of vague idea,” she answered.

“I’m not quite sure you do, because I don’t think you’d be asking about keeping your fingernails if you did.”

Alex blinked. “But what do fingernails have to do with—” She gasped as Maggie moved her hand between Alex’s legs and lightly brushed her fingertips against her.

“Imagine me inside you,” she whispered, repeating the motion.

“Oh God, okay, I get it,” she said, her hips moving of their own accord, trying to get more friction from the barest touch of Maggie’s hand.

“Uh, uh,” she said, withdrawing her hand, leaving Alex whimpering. “Next week.”

Alex caught her breath. “You’re going to make me wait until next week for that?”

“If you’re lucky,” Maggie grinned. She leaned over and kissed her gently. “We should get done up. It’s nearly time to go.”

As if on cue, the grandfather clock chimed the quarter hour.

She groaned.

Once Alex got home, she got ready for bed and also removed the polish from her nails and started trimming them. As she did so, she remembered Maggie’s gentle touch and her cheeks flushed as she carefully trimmed them shorter than they’d been in probably more than a decade. How on earth would she make it until next Tuesday?

***

When Alex got to the house that night at about a quarter to eight, she walked in and said hi to Bea and Vicki and Chris and Jenny got herself a glass of wine and waited for Maggie, who appeared, as usual, just before eight.

As soon as Vicki was done with her introduction, Alex grabbed Maggie’s hand and virtually dragged her upstairs.

“I have been thinking about you since last week,” she said, hoarsely, as soon as they got into the room and shut the door. “Maggie, I want you.”

The look of pure desire Maggie gave her sent a bolt of lightning straight through her. That _she_ had caused _that look_ only aroused her more. “Please, Maggie,” she said, gently. “Teach me.”

In her whole life, Alex had experienced nothing like the next couple of hours. She’d not had any understanding that sex could be like _that_. Explosion after explosion of sensation, with no discomfort. Just want. Desire. It was foreign to her. Never in her life had she felt so good, had she wanted to make someone else feel like they’d made her feel.

There hadn’t been enough time to shower at the house, so Alex was grateful Duncan was, as usual, already snoring in bed when she got in. She hopped in the shower and rinsed off all evidence of the evening’s activities.  It was with true regret she washed off traces of Maggie’s lipstick from her body. She couldn’t wait for next week.

***

The weeks melted into each other, with Alex and Maggie meeting at the house and taking a room to themselves immediately, most nights. It wasn’t all about sex though. Alex knew beyond the shadow of a doubt she was in love with Maggie. She didn’t know her full name, her birthdate, her address, her phone number, but she knew she was in love with her. Her keen intellect, her quiet strength and steadiness, her humour, all of these things would sustain her if they had the chance to spend over three hours together each week. She loved everything about her, including her body. She could lose herself in exploring Maggie’s body for an entire evening and, when that grandfather clock would chime its warning at a quarter to eleven, she knew she could spend another three hours caressing, kissing, touching her and still not be content. They hadn’t said it though. She’d tried to and Maggie had kissed her to prevent her from speaking.

“Don’t,” she’d said, as she’d pulled away. “Please.”

Alex hadn’t understood; tears had welled up in her eyes. “Oh,” she’d said.

Maggie kissed her softly. “It’s not because I don’t feel the same way,” she had said, gently. “Because I do.”

“Then why?” Alex had asked.

“Because,” she had said, tugging at Alex’s wedding and engagement rings.

“But that means nothing to me,” she had protested.

“Some things are better left unsaid,” Maggie had countered. “We… we can’t be together, Alex, not like this,” she had said, pulling on her rings again. “So let’s just… enjoy this.”

The rest of her sentence remained unspoken: while they had it. Alex knew it was possible that this wasn’t forever. She knew it logically. She couldn’t help her daydreams, though, like them both outliving their husbands and moving in together afterwards, finally getting their chance at real happiness. Would that really happen, forty-some years down the road? _Could_ it? She didn’t even know her _name_ , and Maggie was adamant they not exchange information, for safety. “All we can count on, Alex,” she’d said at one point, “is one evening at a time.”

She’d tried, occasionally, to get Maggie to talk to her about her obvious fear and paranoia. She‘d said that it wasn’t being paranoid if they really _were_ out to get you. She’d strongly suspected something troubling had happened at one of the circles in Nebraska.

One night, perhaps three months after first meeting her, Alex got to the house at about a quarter to eight, greeted Bea, Vicki, Chris, Jenny and some others, got herself a glass of wine and poured one for Maggie, then waited for her. As usual, she arrived just before the clock struck eight and Alex watched as Maggie’s dark eyes scanned the room, looking for her. Her entire face lit up when she saw her.

She joined her quickly, taking the proffered glass of wine and clinking it gently against Alex’s, maintaining eye contact the whole time before she took a sip.

“I missed you this week,” Alex said.

“I missed you more,” she murmured in reply, as Vicki got underway with the rules.

She slipped her hand into Maggie’s and took comfort in the connection. The soft warmth of her hand, grasping her own, even that simple act made her heart glow.

Vicki wished them all a good evening, and the women started to scatter, some, like Chris, going upstairs, some, like Jenny, joining others for conversation elsewhere in the lounge, while still others went downstairs.

Maggie and Alex sat together, talking quietly, aiming to finish their wine before heading upstairs themselves. They chatted with Vicki and Patty and Kerry, when a short, high-pitched blast sounded.

Alex frowned as it repeated four more times.

“Let’s go, ladies,” Vicki said, “stay calm, but move quickly.”

Alex gripped Maggie’s hand tightly. “Maggie?”

“It’s a raid,” she said, a grim look on her face. She quickly grabbed Alex’s wine glass and smashed it and her own on to the hardwood floor, grinding the stems and bases with the sole of her shoe. “DNA, fingerprints,” she said, answering Alex’s unasked question. “Grab your basket, let’s go.”

Alex, wide-eyed, reluctantly let go of Maggie’s hand and ran over to retrieve her knitting basket. She and Maggie met up at the emergency exit Vicki had just opened and headed out into the backyard.

“Exits are to the left and right, and there’s a door on the back wall of the fence. Stay away from the front of the house,” Vicki was saying, completely in control, “move, move, ladies, let’s go.”

Alex and Maggie moved right towards that exit.

“Maggie, what… what does this mean?” Alex asked, finally grasping what was happening.

“It’s a raid,” she repeated, “so this,” she said, indicating the house with her chin, “is over, it’s done. We’re blown,” she said. “We’ve got to go before we get seen or, worse, caught and arrested.” Still holding Alex’s hand tightly, they moved towards the exit on the right. A spotlight turned on, illuminating the area.

“Scatter!” Vicki called, causing the six or so women to run in different directions, as suddenly a swarm of officers in tactical gear entered the backyard, from the right entrance.

“Here,” Maggie said, pulling Alex behind her as she led them behind some bushes. “Quiet,” she whispered.

Alex watched in horror as they captured several women, including Vicki. Maggie, meanwhile, was looking at the fence behind them. There were still two officers in the yard, but they focused their attention on the house, not the yard.

“Alex, listen,” Maggie whispered. “I’m going to throw something into the far corner of the yard by the house. We then need to go through the door in this fence and you’ll turn left and will run between the houses until you get to a street. Then get to your car, okay?”

She nodded. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, “I’ll be fine.”

“Maggie…”

“There’s no time,” she said. Gently, she kissed Alex once more.

“Maggie,” she pleaded, “no.”

“We have to go, Alex. Get ready,” she said.

Alex watched as Maggie took a hefty rock and threw it towards another set of bushes by the house. The two officers shone their lights there and moved, while Maggie carefully unlatched the door and pushed Alex through.

“Go,” she said. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“Maggie,” she said. “I lo—”

“Over here!” an officer shouted, the lights swinging towards the door they’d just used.

“Go!” Maggie said, pushing Alex to the left, as she ran to the right.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Alex ran as fast as she could, ducking through backyards, avoiding picnic tables and laundry lines, stumbling in the dark. Finally, she made it to a street which was only a couple of blocks or so from her car. She wiped at her eyes and hoped she looked presentable enough to any passersby she might encounter. Quickly, she walked towards her car, keeping an eye out for anyone from the circle, looking out for officers, looking for anyone who might look at her strangely. She didn’t encounter a single person. She unlocked her car and got into it and drove, desperate to get out of the area.

She realized, halfway home, that she couldn’t even _go_ home. Not yet. Duncan would still be awake. She drove to a nearby park and looked at herself in the rearview mirror. Her makeup was ruined, her mascara and eyeliner smudged and runny. She was still crying.

Never once had she given much thought to emergencies, despite Vicki’s well-rehearsed speech every week. She paused, remembering Vicki being grabbed by an officer, handcuffs closing around her wrists. She sobbed. She’d lost her group of friends, she’d lost the one place she could safely be herself… And she’d lost Maggie. She rested her arms on the steering wheel and lowered her head and cried. She cried until her head ached and until her eyes burned. God, she didn’t know if anyone else was even safe. Had Maggie made it? Who from the house had made it out safely? What on earth had even happened?

She turned on the radio in the car and tuned in to the news station.

“— that at least eight women, all alleged Likers, were captured tonight in a raid on a house in the Dinsmore district of the city,” the newscaster said. “More women, also thought to be Likers, escaped from the house and officers are working hard to bring them to justice. If you have any information about any women who might be part of this organization, you’re encouraged to contact your local police station immediately. More updates as events warrant, weather is next.”

Alex turned the volume down. Eight! Eight of her friends. There had been how many in the yard with them? Four? Five? She swallowed. That meant some people in the house got caught.

She took a deep breath. She’d escaped. She was safe. And for that, she was grateful. But oh, god, she hoped Maggie had escaped, too.

Alex sat there, alternately crying and forcing herself to breathe, until it was well after nine. Then, she decided to fix up her makeup and go home. Still listening to the news, she drove the ten minutes to the house. There were no other details of the raid, not yet. She’d likely have to wait for the newspaper’s report the next day.

She forced herself to breathe on her way home. She pulled into the driveway and realized the living room light was still on, which meant that Duncan was still awake. She sniffled and looked at her reflection again. She looked tired, but she looked normal enough that she should be able to pass a cursory look from Duncan. She tried forcing a smile and though smiling after that evening seemed impossible and felt so wrong, she looked normal.

She scoffed. Normal. She grabbed her license out of the glove compartment and tucked it into her basket and headed inside.

“Alexandra? Alexandra, is that you?” Duncan called.

“Yes, dear,” she replied.

“Goodness, you’re home early,” he said from his chair in the living room.

“Uh, yes,” she said, “I wasn’t feeling well. I, uh, I have a headache,” she said. That, at least, was the truth. Her head hadn’t stopped pounding since she’d spent at least twenty minutes sobbing in the car. She hovered in the entrance to the living room. “I think I’ll go up, shower and try to get some sleep.”

He nodded. “Goodnight, darling,” he said. “I’ll be up in a little while. Just watching the news.”

She forced a smile even though she could hear the reporter talking about the Dinsmore district. “Goodnight, dear,” she said, and forced herself up the stairs.

She cried again, silently, in the shower. Exhausted, she fell into bed and fell asleep shortly thereafter, before Duncan joined her.

Alex’s dreams were disjointed memories of the night. Images of kissing Maggie would change into visions of Vicki being arrested. Holding Maggie’s hand turned into holding her off the side of a cliff and then losing her grip and watching Maggie fall. The words she had wanted to hear from Maggie’s lips for so long echoed in her dreams and Alex sat bolt upright in bed, her response on her lips. She looked around. It was just before six. The alarm would go off shortly. She got out of bed and pulled on her housecoat and slippers and started her day.

After Duncan had left for work, while Victoria was in her playpen and Elizabeth was in the living room, playing quietly, Alex finally allowed herself to read the details in the paper.

The headline read “HOMOPHILE SAFEHOUSE RAIDED; ARRESTS MADE”. She let out a shaky breath as she read through the article.

_Last night, police officers raided a house in the Dinsmore district of the city after a man followed his wife to her regular knitting group meeting the previous week. He_ _’_ _d been suspicious since she joined as he claimed she was atrocious at knitting. The man, John Segal, witnessed some unnatural goings-on after peeking in through a window to the cellar. He immediately notified the police, and they put a plan into place to raid the house the following week._

_Among those captured was admitted collaborator, Victoria Stevens, whose sister, Kathleen Donahue, is a known and convicted homophile. They have arrested seven other women under the Anti-Homophile Act of 1982: Christine O_ _’_ _Reilly, Jennifer Howey, Kerrison Rice, Beatrice Fuller, Michelle Smith, Catherine Lloyd and Krista Segal, wife of John Segal. Investigations are underway to find the other women who fled the scene, all alleged homophiles. If you have any information about any possible participants in this group, please contact local authorities immediately._

Alex wiped tears away. They had taken Chris, Jenny, Kerry, Vicki and others into custody. It seemed, though, that Maggie was safe. At least she could be grateful for that even if she knew finding her again would take a miracle. There were close to five million people in the city proper, close to seven million if you took the suburbs into account. She could go door to door every day for eight hours a day and do so for years and still not find her.

The phone rang and her heart leapt. Had Maggie had found her? She sighed. That would be ridiculous. She stood from the table and picked up the phone.

“Williams residence, Alexandra speaking,” she said.

“Alexandra, I’m so pleased you’re all right.”

“Chelsea!” She had spoken little with her friend since she’d introduced her to the circle. She hadn’t wanted to put the other woman into a compromising permission. “Yes, I am, thank you for calling.”

“Well, when I heard the news last night, I couldn’t sleep for the worry. Were you there?”

She hesitated. Was it safe to admit it to Chelsea?

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Alexandra, I’m the one who gave you the address,” Chelsea huffed.

Alex sighed. “Yes, I was. I, uh, I knew several of those arrested.”

“Goodness,” she said. “I’m so pleased you’re all right. I didn’t call last evening. The last thing you would have needed was Duncan suspecting anything.”

“Thank you,” Alex said, sincerely. “Listen, Chelsea, I’m at a loss here. I’m not sure what to do now.”

“Dear, as far as I understand it, there’s nothing to do. These things are quite the secret groups, obviously. Secrecy and confidentiality are the priority.”

She sighed. “Yes, but, uh… If I’d like to get back in touch with some of them?”

“I don’t think there’s any way, Alexandra,” Chelsea said. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, if you hear anything from your friend’s cousin, please call?” she asked, just short of pleading.

She paused. “Of course, Alexandra. Well, I should go. But I’m glad you’re all right. We should all get together for dinner soon.”

“We should,” she agreed. “And Chelsea?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” she said, “for all your help.”

“Of course, dear,” she said. “Have a good day.”

“Bye.”

She disconnected and sighed. After months of being _Alex_ , of discovering who she was, of falling in love, she now had to remember how to be _Alexandra_ permanently.

***

Alex was despondent for weeks after the raid. Even Duncan had noticed. She’d blamed her mood on the kids. To be fair, Victoria was teething, which meant an irregular sleep schedule, which wasn’t helping anything. He’d also asked her why she no longer went to her knitting circle.

“They’ve cancelled it,” she had said.

“Ah, understandable,” he’d replied, “surely they want no one to think they’re running such an operation as the one in Dinsmore!”

“Exactly,” she’d said.

“Still,” he’d harrumphed, “you should do something with yourself, darling. Staying cooped up in the house isn’t good for you.”

“Yes, dear,” she’d replied.

So she’d tried. She’d gone out to other events for knitting, sewing, cooking, but hadn’t seen a single familiar face. She tried to throw herself into being the perfect mother, the perfect wife, but none of it felt genuine. She loved her children, but not her life, nor the life she foresaw for both of her young girls. Elizabeth and Victoria would grow up and end up married to a man they might not love, especially if Chris had been right about homophilia being a biological difference and not some kind of personal failing. What if one of her girls grew up to be a Liker? What if both did? Regardless of the trouble for them if that were the case, neither would be in the workforce, or have much in the way of education. It just wasn’t done. Worse, neither of them would likely even question the way things were. So much was wrong with society, but what could she do about it? She’d already lost the great love of her life. Would losing her family and freedom do anything?

One Thursday evening, her husband came home and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Darling,” he said, “how was your day?”

“Fine,” she said, “nothing of interest, really,” she said.

“Ah,” he replied. “Listen, dear, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked my new supervisor and his wife to dinner next week, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” she said, absently, as she stirred a spaghetti sauce. “When?”

“I said Tuesday, but said I’d need to check with you,” Duncan said.

She swallowed. Even the word _Tuesday_ still stung, still brought up memories of Maggie and her friends. “Tuesday’s fine, dear,” she replied. She smiled. “Thank you for checking with me.”

“Of course, darling,” he said, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’ve been so down lately,” he said, “and I wouldn’t want to add to that.”

He was a good man, Alex reasoned. He was. He was just a product of his upbringing, of society. But he was kind. She turned around in his arms and rested her head on his chest. At least he was kind, and he genuinely cared for her. “Thank you,” she murmured.

He kissed the top of her head. “Where’s Elizabeth?”

“Living room,” she said, “watching television. Victoria’s in the playpen.”

He nodded. “I’ll go wrangle them.”

***

On Monday night, Alex fell asleep early and was up again at five in the morning to bake the bread for the evening’s meal. She’d baked a cake the day before. The roast would go in after she had fed the girls and then she’d bathe them and put them to bed while it cooked. She even had plans to make her mother’s famed glazed carrots. It was Duncan’s boss, after all. They needed to make a good impression.

Duncan got home at half-past six and his boss and his wife were scheduled to arrive at seven. He hadn’t done anything to ready the house for his guests, as per usual. She’d been the one to clean it from top to bottom. She’d set the table, she’d herded the girls, she’d baked, she’d cooked. Frankly, it was ridiculous, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t realized how insane it was to be so subservient to a man. Why couldn’t _she_ be the one to go to work? She’d laughed at herself, quietly, as she tended to the carrots. She couldn’t go to work because she didn’t know how to do anything. It was now clear to Alex that the men were doing whatever they could to “take care” of the women, which meant that women were kept out of school, which meant that their only value to men were in the home, as wives. She sighed, thinking about Chris. Everyone arrested in the raid had been convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment for contravening the Anti-Homophile Act of 1982.

This, of course, wasn’t the right time to think about any of this, not when she was about to have to play the good wife and hostess for the evening. Still, it was Tuesday and Tuesdays were still especially difficult. She’d lost track of the number of weeks since the raid, but still thought about the others every day, and especially on Tuesdays. The doorbell rang, and she called out for Duncan to get it as she tried to ensure the roast didn’t catch on fire.

She basted the roast and put it back in the oven, noting she had about fifteen minutes before she’d have to take it out. She wiped her hands down on her apron and reached behind her and untied it, draping it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked as she ever did — prim, proper, normal. Her shoulder-length hair was in place, her makeup was on, she‘d grown out her nails again and they were freshly polished. She nodded at her reflection and headed out to the front hallway to greet the guests.

“Ah, my darling Alexandra,” Duncan said, an arm extended towards her as she walked towards him. His arm came down around her shoulders and she wrapped her left arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder, her right hand on his chest. “Meet James,” he said.

She smiled a hello and moved forward, offering her hand.

He grasped it politely for a moment. He wasn’t unattractive, Alex decided. He was tallish, broad-shouldered, with short-cropped light brown hair and blue eyes. She tried to look beyond him to greet his wife, but the entryway was rather cramped and he was blocking her view.

“Oh, here, dear,” he said, releasing Alex’s hand, “let me help.” He turned and helped his wife step out of her coat. “My wife, Margaret,” he said, as his wife turned around to face Duncan and Alex.

Alex’s heart nearly burst from her chest.

_Maggie._

To her credit, Maggie only smiled, though her eyes twinkled at her. “Alexandra, was it?” she asked, moving towards her, her hand extended.

She swallowed and tried to keep her smile in check, to prevent it from displaying the pure joy she felt. “Yes, hi, it’s, uh, a pleasure to meet you,” she said, taking Maggie’s warm, soft hand in hers for a short shake. “Margaret.” Their touch was still electric, even after all the months apart.

“The Sawyers just moved here what was it, James, about six or seven months ago?” he asked.

“About that,” he said. “Oh, here!” He handed a bottle of wine over to Duncan. “Thought this might come in handy tonight,” he chuckled.

Alex smiled as Duncan handed it to her. “You’re too kind James,” she said. “You didn’t need to bring anything.”

“Of course we did,” Maggie — _Margaret_ — said. “It’s so kind for you to have us over for dinner. Alexandra, can I help with anything?”

“Uh,” she cleared her throat, “sure, sure, come on in to the kitchen. Duncan, would you please bring James into the den? We’ll be out shortly.”

“Come on, James,” he said, “just this way.”

“Follow me,” Alex said, “the kitchen’s over here, Mag—, uh, _Margaret_.”

As soon as they got into the kitchen, hidden from view, Alex put the wine down on the counter and hugged Maggie to her tightly. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” she whispered.

Maggie held on to her tightly. “Me too,” she admitted. “God, I’ve missed you so much, Alex,” she whispered back.

Alex smiled and pulled back, looking down into Maggie’s deep brown eyes. “I love you,” she said, softly, but clearly. “I’ve been waiting to say that forever.”

Maggie smiled, dazzling her with the radiance of it. “And I love you,” she replied.

“Need any help, ladies?” Duncan called from the den.

“No, no,” Alex said, “we’ll be right there with the hors d’oeuvres!” she called back.

She bent down and pressed her lips gently against Maggie’s. There was so much she wanted to say, so much they needed to discuss, and this wasn’t the time. She smiled as she pulled away. But there _would_ be time for those things. And more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [performativezippers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/performativezippers) for "Liker" and to [drnik46](https://twitter.com/drnik46) for "homophile".
> 
> Also, as someone who's gay, this was an extremely difficult world to write. I feel that, as a queer author, I should be doing my part to show worlds that are _better_ than the world we're currently in, where people of all sexual orientations and gender identities are welcomed and are safe.
> 
> I want to make it clear to anyone reading this -- whether you're gay, straight, bi, pan, queer, questioning, trans, asexual, aromantic, an ally or anything else you might identify as -- **you are okay and there's nothing wrong with you.**
> 
> Because I believe in that so very much, **I'll be donating $1 (USD) to[The Trevor Project](https://give.thetrevorproject.org/give/63307/#!/donation/checkout) for every kudo or top-level comment (related to the fic) that this fic receives** until the end of the day on January 31, 2019, up to a maximum of $250. And if it's possible to donate in honour of two people, I'll donate in honour of Alex and Maggie. I'd encourage you to make a small donation to them as well, if it's not a hardship. Thank you so much.
> 
>   _Edit: January 9, 2019_  
>  Between top-level comments (44) and kudos (208), we've surpassed 250, so I will donate $250 to The Trevor Project! Thank you all for reading! Again, if it won't cause hardship, I'd also recommend you donate to The Trevor Project. Even a small donation would be helpful. (Also, feel free to continue leaving comments and kudos. I'm not complaining. ;))
> 
>  _Edit: January 15, 2019_  
> [I've made my donation to The Trevor Project.](https://twitter.com/brinshannara/status/1085344239083577345) Thank you all for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. :)
> 
> **Finally, each part of this series is a one-shot. There will be no second chapters or continuations within the series, so please don’t ask. :) Once I’m done with all the Earths, I may do a smaller collection based on some of my favourites from this series but that’s a long way off.**


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